scream it or stuff it

Part of me wants to scream it at the top of my lungs.
Another part of me wants to stuff it deep down inside.

So here I find myself with my compromise: I am writing.

I”ve known I needed to write about this. To get it out. To express my feelings. I kind of went into it a bit with my very close friend. And I did talk at length about it with my husband. But now it’s time to “talk” about it with myself. To write it out. Just for me. To help me get out my feelings.

My mother is in rehab.

There. I said it.

I knew it was coming. It was just a matter of “when?” and “what would happen?” After all, everyone hits bottom in their own way.

Our trip back east last month was very difficult. Our trips back can be difficult to a degree, but the ones in hindsight don’t even qualify being deemed difficult in contrast to this past visit.

How much detail shall I go into here? How many stories should I share? Should I share any at all? That is why I’m here, isn’t it? But how much do I need to tell to get it out of my system? To wrap my mind around it? To get it off my chest? It’s up to me. And I don’t even know.

And I think I will leave things at that for now.

june 23rd to august 11th

I can't believe it has been that long. Then again, I can.

My prolonged absence only adds to my lost momentum. And yet here I am, again, trying to reverse that pattern. What I've learned in experiences past is that no habit or pattern changes unless you really want it to change. And sometimes one doesn't know what one really wants. That's when actions speak louder than words.

What has happened in these almost two months since I've written? Read ahead...

L turned four!

Perhaps the biggest thing was a three-week visit with my family back east in Connecticut and New York. L's birthday coincided with this trip. Visits back home tend to render me a bit phased and unproductive each time I come back. This visit in particular was a bit rough. Then again, they all are a bit rough in their own way.

I've been debating for some time whether to write about the difficulties - and joys - involved in this pilgrimage. What it comes down to, though, is a question of respecting the privacy of others. Because, in my journey, a great deal of the stress and heartbreak involves the lives and business of others. And I'm always torn at disclosing such things. Especially since there is only partial anonymity when I say "my mom" or whoever it is who's related to me.

I'm still deliberating. After all, I need to get it out somewhere.

What else?

Upon our return I participated in a wonderful Artisans fair here in Tucson that proved very successful. It was a wonderful ego boost, which I appreciated whole-heartedly. I have a couple more fairs lined up in the next few months that I'm looking forward to. And, in the meantime, I've been updating my little shop on Etsy regularly.

Aside from the previous, we've been resuming playdates, book club meetings, trips to the local public library, local parks, and exercise classes since we've returned. I finished The Reader and The Book Thief (both based in Nazi Germany) in the past couple months. I'd recommend both. And of course there is the dishes, the laundry, the vacuuming, and dusting. Oh! And I can't fail to mention the huge overhaul on the garden upon my three-week absence. Woah! It's amazing how disorderly things can get in just short of a month.

I'm slowly (emphasising slowly) uploading pictures from our trip on flickr, so you can have a peak at some of our experiences there. (Be sure to log in and be my friend in order to see the pictures of the kids.)

Lastly, my four year anniversary of blogging here came and went.

I hope everyone is doing well and I miss keeping in regular touch. I do need to get better about that. It seems the older the kids get, the less time I have lately. Which is funny, because I always considered babies the neediest. This pattern will reverse over time, though. And I know I'll miss these days.

Until next time.